


Nany's Challenge

by orphan_account



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 19:54:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6720670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nany’s prompt: Cutter/Jacobi. The fic starts with Jacobi trying to convince Cutter to join in on his fabulous duo halloween costume idea. Only, um, I misread the prompt and wrote the other way around. Oops. I’m sorry! </p><p>The Kepler in this fic draws on ideas of Kepler from Butt’s fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nany's Challenge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gershwinpalmercecil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gershwinpalmercecil/gifts).



Jacobi didn’t consider himself an overly careful person. Careful people never forgot about grenades in their pockets when they dropped dirty uniforms in the laundry chute, or left those uniforms on the floor of a Grindr hook up. Still, despite a generally lax attitude towards explosives, it was hard to see Mr Cutter digging through his collection without a small degree of concern.

“Sir?” He approached slowly, arms out, the way a man might react when he realized a polar bear was pawing through his trail mix. “Can I help you find something?”

He was answered with a wide grin punctuated by a jerky wave that nearly stopped Jacobi’s breath before he realized that Mr Cutter’s hands were empty. “Yes you can!”

“Thanks Obama,” Jacobi muttered dryly. “What’cha need?”

Mr Cutter’s grin was dangerous in all the ways Kepler’s smile wasn’t. None of the feral savagery lurking below a thin veneer of whatever passed for civilized in his mind, a velociraptor looking for a hole in the fence. Mr Cutter smiled like he knew something you didn’t, a joke you weren’t good enough to know, and your own poor sense of humour would be what killed you in the end. Jacobi told himself that he needed to stop sleeping with men who looked at him and saw all the ways he could die. “Inspiration, Danny.” Cutter shrugged dismissively towarda the vast array of weapons at his fingertips. Yep, Jacobi would start making sensible, rational choices in partners. Just as soon as he’d felt Mr Cutter thrusting into him, hot and fast, his own body shuddering out an answer. “Maybe you could help?”

“Course.” Jacobi licked his lips and moved to the pile. “These are C22Bs.” He let his fingers slide over the timer, caress the cold metal of the trigger. “Great if you’ve got time to kill. Makes one hell of an explosion, but you’d better get out of the way first.” He reached for his next favourite, buried halfway in the pile, but Mr Cutter placed a cool hand on his wrist, pausing the motion.

“It’s October 29th, Danny. I need inspiration for a Halloween costume. I thought looking at weapons would help, but I’m coming up empty. I want something that says _power_.” Mr Cutter lifted his hand and Jacobi could feel the marks left by his touch burned into his skin. He was almost surprised that there was no visible brand, Mr Cutter’s fingerprints etching a reminder of his ownership for everyone to see. For Kepler to see, later. Jacobi’s pulse quickened. “I asked Rachel, but she was useless. She’s under a lot of stress, the poor thing.” Mr Cutter shook his head in mock sorrow. “And she says my best idea is disrespectful to our South American employees.”

“Oh?”

“I was thinking, wouldn’t it be a nice team building exercise if I wore a paired costume with one of my favourite employees? Something fun, like Evita and Peron.” Cutter closed the distance between them, so if Jacobi moved forward at all, breathed even, they would be touching.  “I’ve been reading up on the Hephaestus crew, and I’m very into musicals these days.”

How do you speak without breathing? Jacobi let the last of the air in his lungs go as he asked, “You want me to be Evita?”

“Of course not!” Jacobi was going to suffocate, watching Mr Cutter wave his hands, laugh at his question. “I want you to be Peron.” His lips were almost touching Jacobi’s ear as he said, “Evita had the real power.”

Rabbits and emus are both killed by cars. A rabbit, seeing oncoming headlights, will freeze and let their body be destroyed. An emu will run full tilt at the car, embracing their own destruction. Jacobi reached up a hand, pulled Mr Cutter’s chin towards himself, and kissed him.

It was exactly how he’d imagined it scores of times, alone in his bunk or with another man’s lips on his, a stranger’s or Kepler’s. Mr Cutter tasted like money and ice and every motion calculated ten moves in advance. God, he would kill to be in bed with both Mr Cutter and Kepler, feel them fight their battles for dominance across his body. His hands reached for Mr Cutter’s belt, fingers sure as he undid the clasp and the fly beneath it, sank to his knees while Mr Cutter pressed gently down against his head.

Kepler’s cock was bigger than Mr Cutter’s. He wondered if Mr Cutter knew that. Kepler would have cared, but somehow he didn’t think that Mr Cutter did. All that Mr Cutter cared about was Jacobi, knees on the floor, Kepler’s right hand man servicing him. Jacobi wondered if Mr Cutter was going to tell Kepler, put the incident in Jacobi’s file for the other man to find. He shivered at the thought of what Kepler would do when he saw it. Mr Cutter felt the motion and moaned appreciatively. Jacobi pressed his head forward, took in Mr Cutter’s full length, hummed against it. He was rewarded with another moan, a half strangled noise. Mr Cutter would come soon and Jacobi would savour it as he did every explosion. Every time a world ended and he kept on living was a moment to be celebrated. It couldn’t last forever. He was not a careful man.

Something about that phrase lingered in his mind as he felt Mr Cutter swell against him. Something was wrong. It didn’t matter, because Mr Cutter was guiding his head now, forcing him to move faster and faster. There was something that a careful man would have remembered, but Jacobi had forgotten. Mr Cutter stroked Jacobi’s cheek with one hand, a caress, and it occurred to Jacobi that he might have been showing off a bit with the C22B. That maybe fondling a bomb wasn’t the safest form of foreplay. And turning it on certainly wasn’t. Kepler would have noticed, but Mr Cutter wasn’t Kepler. He didn’t taste like him or move like him or know nearly as much about explosives as him. Jacobi pulled his head back, hitting it against the table in his rush. The pain grounded him, but it took a second to do it, and Jacobi had run out of seconds.

Kepler and Rachel displayed the appropriate degree of sorrow at the funerals.


End file.
